Brothers
by corneroffandom
Summary: Seth finds himself on a slippery slope after his knee injury.


He can't walk right. That's Seth's first clue that something's wrong. His leg feels loose, like one wrong step could make it twist under him like some sick cartoon thing that he used to laugh at as a kid. He alerts the ref, who calls for a trainer and between the two of them, they assist him up the ramp, and it's some relief to have that support, despite the humiliation of leaving the ring like this.

He's alone on this tour, the Authority aren't supposed to be around until closer to Raw, and Reigns and Ambrose are over on the opposing tour. J&J security are still recovering from all that Brock Lesnar had done to them, and a lot of times, he finds himself wondering if it was worth it, everything they went through. He follows the trainer's orders and sprawls out on the cot, explaining to the arena doctor about what he's feeling, how strangely his knee is moving right now. The man's face darkens and Seth watches him as he examines his knee. It still doesn't hurt, no matter how it's moved, or adjusted. Even so, he suspects it's bad. He just doesn't know how bad.

The next morning, he goes to the local hospital to have an MRI. He's clinging to the hope that it will be nothing, that he can wrap it up and carry on being champion. His knee hadn't hurt through the night, he'd even slept alright for a few hours once he'd stopped thinking about the moment, replaying it again and again, trying to figure out what he did wrong. He's still pondering this when the doctor rejoins him. "I'm afraid it's not good," he explains, sitting down and rolling the chair towards the cot. "Your MRI shows a torn ACL, MCL and meniscus."

Seth closes his eyes and breathes through his nose. "What does that mean? What is the recovery period?"

"It'll require surgery," the doctor explains. "An injury of this nature, I would speculate anywhere from 6 to 9 months for full recovery. I'll follow up with the WWE staff and send your records to your doctor in the States."

"Thank you," Seth sighs. He lays there for a few moments longer, trying to adjust himself to this new reality... before he looks over at his things on the nearby counter and pales. The title. He's champion. He can't keep the belt if he's going to be gone the better part of a year. "No... nonono..." He stares down at his knee, face twisting in agony. "Shit!" He can't think of a way out of it... he can't keep the belt. By the time a nurse wraps his knee, brings him crutches, and leaves him with instructions on his care for the next few days until he returns to the States and prepares for surgery, he's reluctantly accepted what will need to be done.

Meeting with HHH- who had flown out early upon learning what had happened- at the hotel is the worst thing he's ever gone through in his lengthy wrestling career. "I can't be champion any longer," he says, the words slipping past numb lips. "I have to... have surgery on my knee Tuesday. I'll be gone 6 to 9 months. I forfeit the belt." He holds it out to HHH, his eyes locked on the floor. "I'm sorry I failed as the future."

HHH is quiet for a long moment, not even reaching out for the belt. Seth is about to look up when his boss, his _almost_ father-figure of the last year and a half, steps forward and hugs him. Crushes the belt and his crutches between them and it's not really comfortable, but it's the first warmth Seth has felt in awhile so he presses his face into HHH's shoulder and closes his eyes. "You didn't fail. You'll be back once you're healthy and strong again, and you'll take back your rightful place. You'll see." He looks somber as he reaches out and takes the belt from Seth, folding it and holding it close to his chest. "When you're back, this belt will be here waiting for you. Thank you, Seth. You always far exceeded what we expected of you. I would like to sit with you and talk about what happens next, but I need to figure out what we're going to do with the title now. I'll see you later."

Seth nods, watching him turn and leave, his walk brisk. "Right... of course." He's alone again. With nothing scheduled until he flies to the States for his surgery, he has very little to do after traveling from stop to stop with his touring colleagues, so he trudges to the elevator and makes his way up to his hotel room. It's spacious and luxurious, but empty and dark since he's staying alone. After pausing only long enough to hang the do not disturb sign on the doorknob, he uses the crutches to ease his weakening knee over to the bed, where he settles down and scrapes his fingers through his hair. He's never been the one to take naps, but he has nothing better to do, so he squirms awkwardly under the sheets and settles back against the pillows, staring up at the ceiling.

Time passes, he's not sure how much. He's drifting in and out, but every time he comes close to actually falling asleep, he shifts and his knee does that weird detached floaty thing that it's been doing since he landed wrong in the ring, and revives him to the reality of his situation immediately. But one of these times, he's actually woke up by something other than his own thoughts. Shuffling outside of his door, and then a crazy loud knock that somehow seems familiar and sets him even further on edge. "Can't you read? The sign on the handle says DO NOT DISTURB!"

The knocking, blissfully, stops, and he grimaces as whoever it is seems to leave. He closes his eyes, trying to find some rest... when there's more noise outside of his door. "Hey-" he's just yelled when there's a beep and the door opens. His jaw drops as he sits up, preparing to defend himself from whatever this is, scrabbling for his crutch- when he realizes it's Ambrose standing in his doorway, tapping a keycard against his knuckle with a smirk on his face. "What the hell?"

"Hello to you too, sunshine," Dean says, shutting the door behind him and smirking. "What, you're not happy to see me?"

Seth sneers at him, his fingers still loosely wrapped around his crutch. "The hell do you want, Ambrose? Here to rub it in that I screwed up and cost myself the belt? Huh?" It's awkward but, as he shimmies up into a sitting position, he doesn't let go of his only weapon, just in case. He almost regrets this once he's settled and looks up at the amused look on Dean's face.

"Nah," he drawls. "Actually they flew me over to replace ya on this tour." Seth scoffs, offended, but before he could say or do anything, Dean hops onto the bed and jostles the crutch right out of his hands where it hits the floor with a solid thud. Seth freezes, not necessarily caring for the closeness _or_ the lack of a way to defend himself in case the pitbull in Ambrose should be unleashed while he's injured and unable to move.

Dean, however, merely smirks. "I'm not here to hurt ya, what would the fun in that be when you can't even make it entertaining?"

Seth closes his eyes, not liking this but deciding to trust in it... for now. "Fine. Then what _are_ you doing here? And how did you get in my room?"

Dean grins, his eyes gleaming like they used to back when it was the three of them and Roman was mad at him, locking him out of the room at all hours. "I can still charm housekeeping staff," he says proudly, rolling his shoulders. "As for why I'm here, Roman wasn't lying awhile back when he said you're still our little brother. I might wanna punch you in the face more than breathin' a lot of times, but neither of us wanted _this_ for you, you know?" He waves a halfhearted hand at Seth's braced knee and Seth swallows hard, feeling suspiciously close to tears all of a sudden.

They sit in silence for awhile before Dean checks the clock. "Meh, I gotta go," he says, getting up. "Event's about to start." He hesitates after grabbing his bag and turns back to the bed, nudging Seth's foot with his fist. "You know how to reach me if ya need anythin'."

Seth nods, watching as Dean hesitates by the desk, scooping up the keys to Seth's rental. "Hey!"

Dean casts a glance at him over his shoulder. "What? It's not like you're going anywhere." Pocketing it, he shuffles out of the door.

Seth rolls his eyes and scoots back under the sheets, casting a glance around the room. Although he still feels a little tense, Dean's arrival had left him feeling moderately better. At least it helps to distract him from feeling sorry for himself and the loss of his championship reign. Yawning softly, he snuggles in and closes his eyes, finally falling asleep.

Dean returns for him that night, helping him to get to the bus to travel on with the rest of the crew. He'll be on the road with them until he has to fly back to the States on Sunday for his surgery, and he casts a quiet, hurried glance back at Dean as he carries Seth's bags, the crutches enough of a hinderance for Seth right now. If you had told him, even three days earlier, that he'd be here, injured and voided of his title belt, Dean by his side like this, he would've laughed in your face... but this is his reality. A sigh escapes his dry lips as he drops down into a seat on the bus, tipping his head back and closing his eyes as Dean joins him a moment later, nudging his crutches out of the way and sitting down heavily next to him.

"You alright?"

"Yeah," he mumbles, shifting his knee and ignoring the still-weird movement that it makes in response, proving anew just how unstable everything down there is with his ligaments and everything shredded to hell. They drive through the night in silence and, upon arriving at the next town, Seth opts to go in instead of returning early to the hotel, as he had the night before. He only has a couple of more days here, so he figures he may as well make the most of it, spend _some_ time with his fellow wrestlers before the long nine months of rehab and recovery begin. He can't walk for long, barely making it to the locker room before he needs to sit down, which he does with a sigh, stretching his leg out gingerly.

People are in and out, saying very little to him, but when New Day enter, Xavier immediately stops short, just to get barreled into by Kofi, then Big E. "What is it?" Kofi asks before spotting Seth.

"Captain!" Xavier exclaims, growing somber as he joins him. "How are you doing?"

He shrugs. "I'm hanging in there. Spending today on the road here, then I have to fly back to the States tomorrow to get evaluated before my surgery Tuesday."

The three New Day members nod somberly before Xavier sits down next to him. "Well, if you don't want to be involved in UpUpDownDown, we'll find a replacement, don't worry about it-" 

"Nah, no, I still want to be involved," Seth insists, almost wounded that Xavier would suggest taking him out of the NFL tournament on top of everything else he's lost. "We can film it before I go, right? And then we'll figure something out for the next round."

Xavier smiles. "Sure, man, whatever you're comfortable with. There wasn't anyone else I wanted in the tournament anyway. We'll work out the details, but what do you think, should we film it tonight so you can relax tomorrow before you go?"

Seth nods. "Sure, sounds good."

"Great, man. I'll come get you when it's time. For now, my boys and I have to go handle some business." Xavier beams before grabbing his trombone and heading out with Kofi and E.

Seth stretches out as best as he can, scrubbing his face. The afternoon passes slowly, the sounds of people bustling here and there to prepare for the night's event the main thing he can hear as he sits there, feeling more and more forgotten as time goes by. He sighs and adjusts the brace on his knee before the door slams open and startles him, causing him to jump. "What the hell, Ambrose?!" he snaps, gritting his teeth against moving his knee so roughly.

Dean pauses in the doorway and stares at him, a number of emotions crossing his face. "Didn't mean to startle you," he says slowly, slinking into the room. "Did that hurt?"

"No, it just feels weird," he grouses. "Everything feels weird right now." A look of sympathy crosses Dean's face, which somehow makes it all worse, and Seth points at him. "Don't look at me like that, I don't need your pity. I don't need anything except to get this surgery over with, return and reclaim what's mine."

Dean holds his hands up. "Course. I understand." He frowns when Seth gets up and starts to hobble out of the room. "Where are you going?"

"Xavier said something about holding my round of the tournament tonight since I'm leaving soon. I'm going to check with him about when that's starting."

Dean rocks back and forth on his heels before stepping forward. "My match isn't for awhile yet, mind if I come with you?"

Seth grits his teeth, about to snap at him for _pity_ but when he turns to look, there's no sign of pity or sympathy in his eyes. No, he looks curious more than anything. "Fine," Seth mumbles. "Whatever." Stepping carefully, he limps through the door and down the hall. Xavier always picks smaller rooms that are less likely to affect whatever shows are being filmed, or match prep going on in the hall, so it's not hard to find the room tonight. Especially considering the sign with the UpUpDownDown logo on it.

Seth knocks and peeks his head in, unsurprised to find Xavier already in there, setting up. "We good to go?"

"Oh, yep," he agrees, blinking when Dean slinks into the room too. He looks like he's about to say something but Seth shakes his head discreetly so Xavier shrugs and goes back to setting up the video game.

Seth faces off against Curtis Axel, defeating him easily enough, and although a lot of wrestlers are in and out during the 25 minutes it takes, Dean stays in a corner and watches quietly, his arms crossed over his chest. He's not still, of course, shifting backwards and forwards the entire time, but it's the most silence Seth's ever gotten out of him. It's unsettling, really. Once Seth wins and gets up, limping away once more, he and Axel talk for a few moments before the video is concluded and they can leave. Dean falls into step next to him and Seth glances over at him. "It's unsettling as hell when you're quiet, Ambrose. What is it?"

Dean's hands move sporatically before he glances at Seth. "You'll have more, you know." Seth looks confused and Dean clears his throat. "Wrestlemania moments. Of course you will."

Seth blinks, feeling like he's been slapped, before sipping from his glass. "Right. Of course I will," he says once he's swallowed down both the drink and some of his emotions. There's no gratitude in his voice, or in the glance they share, but it's there, somewhere deep down, and they both know it.

Dean smirks and nods before pushing the door open, Seth shuffling in to get his things so they can leave. One more bus ride, and he'd be going to the airport for his flight home. This tour had not gone the way he'd expected, not at all, and he's almost relieved for the lengthy flight back, so he would have privacy and quiet to clear his mind, prepare for the surgery and the rehab that's to come. There are a few hours between the bus arriving and his flight so he settles in at the hotel, stretching his leg out on his bed and closing his eyes to try to get some rest.

Dean's around, since neither of them had seen a reason for Seth to get a room only for a couple of hours, but it still surprises him when the bed declines and Dean shifts in next to him. "What're you doing?" Seth mumbles tiredly.

"Getting comfortable," Dean says with a rough chuckle. "What the hell's it look like?"

"Preparing to hog my bed?"

" _Your_ bed, aw listen to that. Nice to know some things never change, Rollins. You're only here for a couple of hours, then it's all _my_ bed." Dean smirks as Seth makes an annoyed noise and rolls over to bury his face in his pillows. He immediately freezes and inhales sharply, all fun and games stopping. "What? You alright?" Dean asks, gripping Seth's upper arm.

"I forget for a minute here and there," he mutters into the pillowcase. "Then I move wrong and it just... all comes flooding back. Doesn't hurt, really, just... feels like there's nothing holding my knee together except for this brace, ya know?"

Dean nods grimly, briskly kneading Seth's shoulder. "C'mon, roll over. Maybe it'll help." He levers Seth over onto his back and they both just lay there quietly, staring at the ceiling.

"Thanks," he sighs out after a moment. Waving a hand to encompass everything, he releases a breath. "All of this. You didn't need to do anything, but leave me floundering and... you haven't. I doubt I'd have done the same."

Dean shakes his head and smirks when Seth looks over at him. "How dumb do you really think I am, Rollins? You mighta changed your number, bought a burner phone, somethin', but I know it was you checkin' on me while I was filming up in Canada after you slammed me into those cinderblocks. All those weird phone calls when the only other one who calls me is Roman? And I knew it wasn't him because he'd at least _talk._ " Dean's fingers dance in thin air as if playing some spastic tune on a piano, and Seth swallows hard. "You might deny it to keep up your little charades as the Authority's Chosen One, but I knew better. No point in tellin' Roman, though I imagine he guessed too... but yeah, you're a shit sneak. Always have been."

Seth grunts. "So what if it was? That was months ago. Things change."

"But a lotta times, they don't." Dean shrugs and smirks when Seth looks away. "We're still brothers. We always will be." He nudges Seth's arm. "You're stuck with us, Seth. Just admit it."

"Whatever, if it means you'll let me sleep, fine. We're still brothers."

Dean's gaze on the side of Seth's face is heavy, full of all of the things that Seth's been ignoring the last year and a half. "Damn straight," he says softly.

"Go to sleep, Ambrose," Seth mumbles back, already slumping into the bone-deep exhaustion he himself is suffering from. Seth doesn't wait to see if Dean does because he closes his eyes and drifts away almost immediately, but when he wakes up, Dean's deep breaths are ghosting against his arm and Seth grimaces, remembering how Dean cycled through either hogging all of the sheets or snuggling up against whichever of them ended up splitting with him that week. In the summer, it was annoying, but in the winter, especially when in chillier cities, it was almost nice.

Now, it's somewhere between the two. But when Seth stares at the clock, he knows he can't wait. His flight is soon so he nudges Dean as he sits up, collecting his crutches. He hates them but the airport is huge and there's no way he's making it through without some sort of support. Dean sits up groggily, watching him collect the few things he'd scattered around. "If you forget somethin', I'll grab it and send it along once I'm back in the States," Dean says when Seth begins to worry his upper lip.

Nodding distractedly, Seth zips his bag up and shoulders it, casting one more glance around the room. "Guess I won't be seeing one of these for awhile," he sighs, turning his glance to Dean. "Well, see you around, Ambrose."

"Oh please, I'm coming with you," Dean grunts, getting up from the bed and walking over to him. "Like I can trust ya to get through the airport without setting off all the alarms or somethin'. Come on, let's go." Before Seth can protest, he pushes him towards the door and grabs Seth's second bag.

They say very little as a taxi takes them to the airport, then even less as they walk through the crowd of people towards the gate that Seth's flight is boarding at. "So I'll call ya on Tuesday, see how the surgery went," Dean says, clapping Seth's shoulder.

Seth blinks. "Yeah, sure... alright." He takes a breath, strangely hesitant to go, but finally turns and makes his way awkwardly down the path leading to security checks on his gate. Airport staff, thankfully, are helpful and take care of his bags as he stands still while TSA checks him over. Once he's waved through, he limps forward on his crutches and boards the plane, closing his eyes as he sinks down into his seat, the flight attendant tucking his crutches away until he might need them. He stares out of the window and gnaws at his bottom lip, thinking that the person standing at the airport window might be Dean, messy hair and a familiar slouch _almost_ obvious from this distance.

Shrugging, he taps his knuckles against the window pane once and watches, smirking, as the person watching raises their fist and presses it against the glass of the airport as well. Sighing, he turns to face forward and squares his shoulders, preparing for the long road that's ahead.

-x

Seth comes to slowly. His leg is oddly numb and painful all at once. He breathes through his nose and looks around groggily. A nurse smiles down at him before disappearing, his doctor appearing a minute later. They talk briefly and then Seth falls back asleep, lulled by the strong pain killers they're dosing him with immediately following surgery.

He wakes up a few hours later to find himself in a different room, his permanent room for the next day or two while they observe him, give him time to rest post-op. A phone is ringing and he grunts, trying to locate it. Finally he realizes it's tangled up in the sheets by his hand and he blinks, surprised to find his cell phone there. "Huh," he mumbles, lifting it up. "Hello?"

"Told you I'd call," Dean says, sounding smug. Which, considering he usually avoids using cell phones 9 times out of 10 _and_ had managed a call overseas, it is quite the feat.

 _Roman,_ Seth decides with a soft chuckle. "Yeah, you did." He tries to shift a bit, gritting his teeth against the throbbing pain up his knee in response.

"How did everything go?"

"About as well as can be expected, I guess. I was pretty outta it from the drugs but I think the doc said things went perfectly..." Seth scrubs his free hand down his face and sighs. "I'm gonna need a nurse in here in a minute though, my knee's feeling pretty rough."

"Alright," Dean says. "Hang in there, man. Talk soon."

Seth nods. "Bye, Dean." Hanging up, he immediately goes for his call button and grits his teeth until a nurse finally appears. She takes one look at him and knows immediately, injecting something into his IV. As he fades into blissful sleep once more, he feels her carefully ease the cell phone from his hands, failing to stop it. "No..." he mumbles, his head rolling against the pillow. "Dean..."

They release him early the next day. He's going to be talking further to the rehab specialist soon, but he knows already it's going to be about two weeks before they actually let him start to work his knee seriously. For now, icing and careful exercises, then probably the week of Thanksgiving, he'll get to start actually doing _work_ to strengthen his knee, get some more flexibility and whatever else to build on. He won't be returning to a wrestling ring for at least six months, but he won't slack at all. He'll come back better, stronger, smarter than before. Will just have to take it a step at a time.

Not that patience is his strong suit, but for something this important, well... He'll force himself to be just that.

Once he's released from the hospital, he's taken to a hotel room in Alabama for the next couple of weeks to begin rehab with the staff of the hospital who performed his surgery overseeing it. Eventually he'll return to Iowa and continue progressing up there, before heading to the performance center to get back in ring shape, but for now, this is where it's all happening. He wanders around, doing what he can with his crutches, but it's rough and he usually just sits on the couch and watches old wrestling videos, missing it, the beauty of the moves, the intensity of grappling and coming out on top.

He falls into a routine of waking up, doing what he can to make himself look presentable before venturing out to the physical therapy offices. They're still not doing much, simple stretches and icing, keeping his knee as mobile as possible following the surgery, and it's frustrating but he gets it. The following Wednesday, he lays in bed and watches old clips for awhile. Three years ago today, he and the Shield had first formed and he smirks as he watches their various rampages from early on. It had been a big source of pride for him, and still is, though he doubts Dean or Roman can view the footage with the same kind of detached pride in it.

Sighing, he gets up and starts his day after a few more of these videos. Another follow up today, and then maybe a better idea for a game plan towards starting true physical therapy on his knee. He takes it all in, the chill in the air, the polite smile on the nurse's face as he follows her towards the examination room. Once he's settled and she leaves, he releases a breath and closes his eyes. He's restless and displeased right now, because everything's moving so damn slowly.

He's still fidgeting on the table when the doctor comes in and it's hard to stop so he can examine his knee, clear him to start rehab the following week. "We'll have you do a few days of rehab here, make sure everything's going ok, then we'll recommend a few rehab places in Iowa for you to continue."

Seth shakes his head. "I have to discuss it with WWE, make sure they'll clear it, but I know a guy. I'll be alright."

The doctor hesitates. "Alright, well, if you change your mind, I'll compile a quick list anyway and if you want it, just ask the front desk for it."

Seth nods, though he has no plans to do so. "Thanks, doc. See you in a few days then."

"Yes, have a good weekend, Seth."

"Thanks, you too." Getting readjusted with his crutches and hobbling out to the front desk, he hands over the paperwork to the ladies and half-smiles at them before turning and continuing on his way outside. It's chilly, but not terrible out like Iowa will be once he gets back home. Spending Thanksgiving in Alabama hadn't been part of his plans either, but it is what it is. He's glad on some level that the doctor is being as cautious with him, because if something, anything, happens to hinder his recovery, he'd never forgive himself.

Being without his title belt, unable to compete, is like an itch under his skin, leaves him crawling for any kind of relief. These thoughts fresh in his mind, he puts his crutches in the backseat of the car that comes to collect him and slips in after them, releasing a breath. Thankfully, the taxi driver doesn't seem that eager to talk, so they sit in silence except for directions and the cost of the ride, which Seth eagerly pays before making his way out of the vehicle.

It's slow going, the crutches, as he approaches the front door of his hotel room, but he manages it better by the day. It's still a fair amount to juggle and he's just made it inside when he loses his grip and drops the key card onto the rug at his feet. He closes his eyes and releases a sigh, considering leaving them there, when he hears shuffling not far away and looks up, startled and this close to calling the police. He stays his hand, however, when he realizes that it's Dean, somehow, again in his hotel room, tilting his head and smirking at him.

His _crutches,_ however, almost follow the card down when there's more noise in the kitchen and another familiar face peeks out at him, not quite as friendly looking as Dean, but there, and not entirely murderous either. Dean peers back over his shoulder before stepping forward. "Droppin' everything at our mere presence, Rollins?" he teases, leaning down with a ease that Seth envies and scooping up the key card. "C'mon, man. Get over here. Roman wants to say hi."

"Sure he does," Seth mumbles, staring at him suspiciously as he fumbles over awkwardly, the crutches feeling like they weigh a hundred pounds. But something crosses Roman's face as he takes in Seth's struggle, he softens a bit. Almost looks guilty. "You here to make sure I'm really injured, Roman?"

It's biting, probably a little cruel, but Roman barely flinches at the venom in Seth's voice as he steps forward and abruptly hugs Seth. Weird, yeah, but under all of the badass Samoan stuff, Roman was always really just a big teddy bear, and he _had_ been the first to say Seth was still his little brother, so it kind of makes sense as Seth leans into his warmth and just allows this little bit of weakness for a few moments. Pulling away, Roman searches his face and shakes his head. "We can't leave you alone for five minutes, huh?" Lightly nudging Seth's jaw with his knuckles, he chuckles grimly. "I was really looking forward to beating you for that title, too, man."

Seth scoffs and swats at his hand, barely noticing as he loses grip on his crutch and it hits the floor next to Dean, who leans over to pick it up. "Oh please, as soon as I'm a hundred percent again, I'll be beatin' one of you two for it, no doubt." He glares from Dean to Roman, who both smirk in a frustratingly pleased way. "What?"

"You think one of us are going to be champion when you return," Roman says in a voice deep with satisfaction. "I knew you thought we were champion material, no matter how much you blustered and denied it the last few months."

Seth rolls his eyes and runs his fingers through his hair, grimacing at them. "If I hadn't seen anything in either of you, I never would've suggested forming the Shield with you." He then pauses, remembering. _"Oh._ That's why you're both here, isn't it? The anniversary?"

"Took you long enough to realize," Dean smirks, rifling through the different sheets that the doctors and rehab specialists had given him, his eyes bugging out at some of the exercises suggested.

"Yeah," Roman drawls. "We figured we should come and mark the day _somehow._ Maybe get you out of your head a little, if that was possible."

Seth sneers before looking around for his other crutch. When Dean hands it over, he hobbles into the living room and sinks into the couch, sighing softly. It's a relief to be off of his feet, although he hates the idleness. "So how do you plan on doing that?" he wonders, forcing his eyes open enough to look up at them. Any other time, he would've been unsettled by the matching, little boy smirks on their faces, but he's tired and his knee is aching just enough that he doesn't have the energy to fret about it.

Later, after Roman's whipped up a decent meal of cubed steaks and pasta with this bizarre mixed vegetable dish that he's made a time or two in the past- _"I like to cook, but being on the road so much, I don't get to do it often, so this is actually the best time I've had in awhile"-_ and Dean kicks both of their asses at a few hands of poker- _where_ he keeps the deck of cards, Seth's not sure, but it's always been readily available for as long as he can remember- they watch some stupid TV, Seth's eyes fluttering shut every few minutes, and he realizes he's relieved that they came. That he let them stay.

The TV is clicked off when they realize and Dean nudges him up to his feet, Seth looking around blurrily for his crutches. "Nah, you're not usin' those things, you're klutzy enough when you're wide awake." Dean grips one of his arms and curls it around his shoulder, Roman repeating the action on the other side, and Seth mumbles sleepily, allowing them to help support him to the bed. After he kicks off his shoes, he collapses onto the mattress and closes his eyes, not that surprised when Dean settles on one side of him and Roman on the other. They'd done this before when there was only a room with one bed available, and the couch was too small for them.

He lays there quietly, feeling their warmth on either side of himself, and laughs quietly. "What's funny?" Roman asks, shifting next to him.

"Nothin'," he mumbles, thisclose to giving in to sleep. They lay there in silence for a few moments longer before he taps his knuckles against Dean's, and then Roman's. "Thank you."

As he falls asleep, Dean and Roman exchange glances, neither sure how exactly to take this, what it might mean for them in the future, and their careers. Dean shrugs, clearly not eager to overanalyze it, and rolls onto his side facing Seth. "Night."

Roman sighs and rolls over as well, nodding grimly as he meets Dean's gaze over Seth's rising and falling chest. "Night."

They leave early the next day, eager to see their homes and, in Roman's case, spend time with his wife and daughter, and Seth returns to his rehabbing. There still isn't a lot to do until his doctor signs off on starting the real work, but he doesn't mind it. Even laying on his back, doing simple stretches and getting ice/heat treatments gives him something to focus on other than how life and wrestling is ticking on without him.

Each day follows this until Monday. When the doctor finally clears him to begin real rehab. Putting weight on his knee for the first time hurts like hell and it's all he can do to keep from crying at the weird pressure of what staples and stitches remain as he stretches muscles that hadn't been used like this in three weeks. He wants to feel normal, and he knows this is the first step towards it, gritting his teeth and working through it.

Five hours a day, the most his doctor would agree to, the most WWE would sign off on. They would probably reduce it soon, which he hates the thought of, but he can't exactly spend the entire recovery period going at five hours steadily without risking further injury. He hates that they're starting on this week, because the rehab clinic is closed on Thanksgiving, but it is what it is so he considers waking up and booking a flight back to Iowa, because now that he's aware of what needs to be done, his knee's limitations, and recommendations have been made to his friend who will be assisting him with rehab from this point on, he just wants to go home, lick his wounds in the privacy and comfort of a familiar place, familiar people.

But that doesn't happen. He sleeps in, for perhaps the first time since he started wrestling. So deeply, in fact, that he barely hears the loud knocking at his door. Sitting up groggily, he stares at it in confusion, not sure who exactly would be bothering him at... He stops and frowns, realizing that it's past noon. _Damn, rehab took more out of me than I realized,_ he thinks with a grimace, grabbing his crutches and running his fingers through his sleep mussed hair.

It takes so long to hobble over to the door that he's sure whoever's on the other side will give up and leave but no, he's just made it to the door when there's another loud, obnoxious pounding at the door that makes him jump. He forcefully unlocks it and pulls the door open, glaring blindly at whoever it is- _If it's Jehovah witnesses, or something, I swear-_ before faltering. "Here again?" he asks, staring at Dean. Roman's behind him, and Seth shakes his head. "Is this gonna become an every holiday/occasion thing?"

"Maybe," Roman drawls. "But we're mostly here 'cause someone else wanted to see you."

Seth looks wary until Roman shifts aside and Seth gets a good look at the third person. "Jojo?" he exclaims, eyes widening. For very understandable reasons, Roman had kept his wife and daughter away from him after he'd joined the Authority, and the mere fact that he's brought the little girl _now..._ It floors him. He stares at her and she stares at him before her lips part into a toothy grin and he registers that she's lost a front tooth recently.

"Uncle Seth!" she exclaims, moving like she's about to leap up onto him for a hug- but Roman thankfully stops her with a hand on her shoulder.

"No, baby girl, remember, Uncle Seth's injured?" he reminds her, smiling patiently at her. "Gotta be careful with him for a little longer."

Her smile disappears as soon as it'd come and she takes in his crutches, some fear filling her eyes. Seth feels awful, looking at her, and quickly backs up into the hotel room. "C'mon, guys, come on in." He makes his way over to the couch and settles in carefully as they walk in and shuts the door behind them, closing his eyes and sighing for a moment before relaxing. Feeling eyes on him, he revives and stares back at Jojo, his lips twitching up into what he hopes is a comforting smile. "C'mere, Jojo," he says, wiggling his fingers towards her.

She steps carefully towards him and he places his crutches against the wall before reaching out for her. "I don't want to hurt you, Uncle Seth," she says, eyes dark with worry.

His heart twists, a little, and he swallows, aware but ignoring how Dean and Roman are watching them. "Nah, you won't, just scramble up on the couch next to me, alright?" She does so, just tall enough to get up there without assistance, and he smiles over at her. "Still want that hug?" She nods eagerly and he holds his arms out to her. "Well, get in here then." Her eyes light up and she crawls into his lap, squeezing him back as he hugs her.

"I missed you, Uncle Seth," she mumbles into his shoulder. "Daddy told me you were mad at him, and we probably wouldn't be seeing you for awhile..." She pulls back and looks up at him. "Was that true? Were you mad at daddy?"

He takes a deep breath. Being a heel in wrestling was one thing, reliving his decisions while staring into the eyes of a seven year old is a whole other matter. He sighs and squeezes her close, resting his chin on top of her head as he thinks out his answer, aware that- wherever Dean and Roman have disappeared to, they're probably listening to every word being spoken right now. "I'm not sure 'mad' is the right term, Jojo." He hesitates. "You know how WWE is such a competitive place? Everyone's trying to be the best?"

"Mm hmm," she says softly.

"It wasn't personal," he mumbles, thinking about those days, being discreetly courted by HHH and growing more and more intrigued by the possibility of being his new pet project. "Not really. I just did what I had to do. What I felt was right."

She seems lost in thought, staring up at him. "Daddy and Uncle Dean used to fight a lot," she says softly. "And you were always stuck in the middle." He nods and squeezes her just a little tighter, now reliving _those_ days too. "But that one time you left them, they actually started to get along better. Maybe you thought doing it again would help even more?"

It wasn't his prime motivation... somewhere deep inside, he _had_ considered the fact that maybe they'd be alright without him because when he wasn't a buffer between the two of them, they seemed to get closer, it's no lie. But all in all the main reason he'd done it was for himself. To focus on his own career, to find his own success without being weighed down by the obligation to Dean and Roman, to have the weight of The Shield brand on his shoulders. But her eyes are so wide, so hopeful, that he can't let her down. Not again. So he nods with a vague smile. "Well, it did, didn't it?"

She giggles and squeals as he tickles her sides and feet, distracting her from this topic. Once she calms down, she yawns. "I love Uncle Dean, he's funny... but I missed you, Uncle Seth."

Seth sighs and kisses the top of her head. "I missed you too, little one," he mumbles into her hair.

The next time that Dean and Roman look in on them, they exchange quick glances. Both are fast asleep, curled up on the couch. Roman softly chuckles, a weird look in his eye, before returning to the kitchenette. Dean takes a moment longer to watch them before following.

Seth's not sure how much time has passed when he feels the warm weight of Jojo against his side disappear, reality immediately imposing upon his much needed rest. He squints up at Dean and frowns, noticing Roman carrying his daughter towards the small table they'd set up for the four of them. "Food's done," Dean says cheerfully. "C'mon, ya slacker. Let's eat."

He hands him his crutches and Seth waits until Dean shuffles aside to give him more room, hoisting himself up and gritting his teeth against his knee protesting being moved after so long of being idle. "Dammit," he hisses. "Shouldn't have sat like that for so long, I guess." He's stiff, it sucks, but the food smells really good as the rest of his senses awaken and he takes a few experimental steps before feeling confident enough to continue. It doesn't matter though, as Dean continues to hover behind him until he's seated safely next to Jojo.

The three of them haven't ate together in so long, it's weird, Seth reflects as Roman hands him a bowl of mashed potatoes.

 _But it's kinda nice too._

His recovery moves along steadily but frustratingly slow once he returns to Iowa. The doctors all tell him he's ahead of their expectations, but he's not ahead of his _own_ expectations. The ones where he can walk without a sharp tug of pain any time he puts any kind of weight on his knee, without needing crutches just to walk on carpet, where he can train normally, take a bump, do what he needs to do to get back in the ring and become champion again. But this isn't like his neck injury- he knows if he seriously injures himself again, he'd be left with more than just ugly scar tissue. This would be permanent, career ending.

So he obliges the doctors. Follows their recommendations, bites down the aching frustration of wanting to fix everything _now_ and not the bit by bit process that it is currently. When he's told that the WWE doctors will want to examine him, make sure he's progressing as well as they think he is, he jumps at the chance. "Can we do it on December 7th?"

The rehab specialist exchanges a glance with his assistant, then shrugs. "We'll see."

It's cleared. Since it's the night of a Raw taping, Seth's in the arena on Dean's birthday. He waits while the doctor examines his knee, does whatever is asked of him, and then is allowed to stand. LIstens blankly as the man explains how far Seth's come, how much further he has to go. He nods dully, having heard variations of it all before, before grabbing his crutches and leaving. That done, now he can relax. He wanders around, catching sight of the show on the monitors as he passes, and his breath hitches each time, the hunger for competition, to be back in that ring impossible to ignore.

He takes a breath, wondering if perhaps this is a mistake, when a damp, strong hand drops on his shoulder and squeezes. "What the hell are you doin' here?"

He looks up at Roman, a deep, dark flare of jealousy filling his veins, when he swallows it down. _Now's not the time. Maybe in eight months. When we're able to_ do _something about it..._ "Lookin' for Ambrose. Any idea where the birthday boy's at?"

Roman's lips twitch. "Oh that's why you're here? Think he's in catering, the boys brought him a cake."

"No it's not! I- I needed to get evaluated by the doc, I just figured may as well see him while I'm here."

Seth hesitates, aware that Roman can see through him so damn easily that he probably was caught on the first word, and Roman shifts forward. "I'm heading that way, come with me. I'll tell 'em it's cool, they'll leave you alone."

Seth sighs, then slowly follows him down the halls, gingerly bypassing the stuff scattered around.

It's worth it just to see the knowing smirk on Dean's face as his eyes soften when Seth painstakingly makes his way over to him and wishes him a happy birthday, the Usos muttering amongst themselves and being thoroughly ignored by the former Shield members. "Want some cake?"

Seth hesitates. Looks from the twins to Roman back to Dean. Nods. "Yeah, I'd like that."

Seth returns for the Slammys, realizing more and more just how agonizing travel is, especially with his leg, especially with how out of practice he's getting with it. But it's not a waste of time, he's awarded a Slammy for Superstar of the Year, and he holds it awkwardly against his crutch as he walks backstage, almost losing his grip on it a million times, and then finally it slips just as he's trying to push open the door to the locker room he'd been assigned, eager to get out of the suit and into some more comfortable clothes and just sit for a few moments before he has to find his way back to the hotel to get some sleep. "Son of a -"

He's about to twist sharply to try to catch it, probably tear a dozen more things in his knee, when he realizes that someone's behind him. "I got it," Dean says, his low, raspy voice more of a relief than Seth would ever expect. Standing back up straight, he smirks and brushes his fingers over the base of the award, tilting his head at Seth. "Superstar of the Year. Hm." Analyzing Seth, then the golden gleam of the statue, he smirks and lifts an arm in a shrug. "I guess it's deserved. Next year, this baby's mine though."

"Oh yeah, right, Ambrose," Seth says, laughing roughly. "As if. I'll barely have half a year to attempt two in a row once I return, but I will do it. In those few months, I will run circles around _everyone."_

Dean stares at him, a strange kind of focus in his gaze. "I don't doubt it," he finally shrugs, pushing the door open and holding it so Seth can get through. Once they're both inside, he sits down. "You stayin' during Smackdown tomorrow?" Seth hesitates, clearly uncertain, and Dean continues, "Then when everyone else all flies home, I guess I could come with you, make sure you aren't an entire grinch during Christmas." His body begins doing that thrumming thing again when he can't seem to sit still, rocking back and forth against the bench in sporadic movements. "I'd invite Roman but I think his wife would kill both of us if he missed another holiday with the family, so it'd just be the two of us."

"Think we can handle that without killing each other?" Seth wonders drily, putting the Slammy down and slowly unbuttoning his shirt after shrugging out of the jacket, still finding a kind of tension in his chest at the thought of it despite the loosening of his clothes. The more time he has to sit and think during this annoying rehab period, the more Jojo's words echo in his mind, the more he _misses_ his brothers. When he was surrounded by the Authority, by J &J security, by Kane and Orton and so many other people, it'd been easy to ignore just how much he yearned for Roman's cool calm and Ambrose's ridiculous humor and inability to sit still for five minutes, but now...

"It may be a Christmas miracle," Dean smirks. "But I'll try if you will."

Seth looks up at him. Nods. "Fine. I'll try."

By the time they head for Iowa after the show, Dean has staples in his head from the aftermath of his cage match with Sheamus, and the chill in the air that sometimes grows even more frigid makes Seth's knee throb anew, causing him to curse his homestate sometimes when it's really bad, but all in all, they somehow make it work enough to have a decent, lowkey Christmas.

Seth even manages not to roll his eyes when Dean smirks as he hands him an unwrapped copy of 12 Rounds 3, though he has to laugh when he sees the look on Dean's face when he opens the gift box to find one of Seth's ugly Christmas sweaters. "You looked like you liked it so much when you modeled it for WWE, I figured you should have one all of your own," Seth says teasingly.

Dean huffs and glowers down at the sweater. "The only thing this has going for it is it's warm," he grouses.

"Not that you need that much since you live in Arizona, huh?" Seth asks, settling back against the couch and tapping the DVD box against his knuckles thoughtlessly.

Dean shrugs carelessly. "Might not be at Arizona much," he says simply. "If I keep havin' to visit Iowa." He glances up and smirks when Seth freezes, a startled look on his face.

"Right," Seth mumbles, still unsure how to react to _that_. Dean was always really good at inviting himself to places, or not minding when he was _not_ wanted. But the more Seth thinks about it, the more he thinks he'd be ok with it. It's a lot better than sitting around, bored and alone, mulling over what his future might hold. What it might not. Looking back down at the DVD in his hands, he glances over the barely used TV in the corner. "Well, I guess we might as well watch this. I don't have popcorn, but..."

Dean shrugs. "That's fine, I wanna see how it all turned out anyway, not spend the whole thing throwing popcorn at you." He grabs the DVD and goes to set up the player, Seth tracking his movements with a vague smile.

 _Yeah, I could live with this, I guess._

Months pass. Seth recovers. Grows stronger. He doesn't hear from The Authority, but barely a day goes by where he doesn't hear from Dean. Or Roman. Or both of them. It's weird, but a good kind of weird. In the time that has passed, the Authority has lost all trust in Sheamus. Instead they put their faith in Kevin Owens, instead, who would do anything for that little bit of extra money.

He gets them what they need- rebounds from losing the Intercontinental title by defeating Roman for the World title the night after Mania. Follows this up by beating Roman again at Extreme Rules, and then again at Payback, but this time with the caveat that Roman now cannot challenge for the World title again while Owens holds it. Seth can only imagine what kind of blow that is for Roman, after everything he'd been through just to _get_ his hands on the title all of those months ago.

Dean, of course, steps up to defend his brother, try to repair the situation. He wins #1 contendership in a battle royal, beginning the slow, impatient preparation for their match at Money in the Bank.

Seth doesn't tell anyone that the day after Dean succeeds at getting this far that, after months of rehab and weeks of working off ring rust at the performance center, he's been cleared for competition. Thinks it's telling when the Authority still doesn't bother to contact him, despite there being no way of them _not_ knowing their former chosen one had finally made a full recovery and has near 100% strength in his knee once more, a couple of months ahead of schedule. He doesn't even tell Dean the next time he talks to him, weighing his options.

Instead, he books his own plane ticket for Money in the Bank and lurks in the halls, listening and watching and relieved that he knows this arena and all of its hiding places well enough that he's not seen, no matter how many wrestlers and techs and everyone else wander nearby. After all, he, Dean and Roman used to scour so many of these buildings for the most eerie, dim areas of the arena just to film their little warnings to the locker room as a whole. He smirks, remembering all of the ridiculous times they had together, before hearing Dean's music.

His head snaps up and he realizes that it's time. He's not even sure who the Money in the Bank winner is this year, just that Dean's walking out, leaving Roman in the halls because he'd been banned from ringside. Seth curls his fingers into his palm and watches, listens, waits. Dean fights, he really does, but any time he gets an opportunity, a moment to breathe, Owens is back, overwhelming him with his size and his speed and his strength. Seth coughs into his fist when Owens drops Dean on his head yet again, leaving him woozy and disoriented.

The ref is checking on him but Owens doesn't care, trying to push the official away, get back to beating down his target for daring to think he deserved this chance at what wasOwens'. Warning after warning does no good and Owens grabs Dean, lifts him and slings him down in a vicious popup powerbomb that leaves the audience speechless as the ref throws the match out, Seth's throat closing up as Owens moves outside, grabs a chair to inflict more damage.

It's a blur, and not just because of how fast he's moving, but one moment Seth's in the shadows and the next he's pushing past Roman, who gapes after him, and grabs a steel chair someone may have been sitting on at gorilla position, racing down the ramp. Owens has his back to the crowd, Owens isn't paying attention to anything but spitting insults at Dean, so he doesn't notice, he doesn't feel the ring shift when Seth slides inside.

He _does_ , however, feel it, arches away when Seth cracks the chair against his back. Again and again and again, hating the man more and more for taking his spot, for ruining Roman's opportunity, for taking away what should've finally been the telling match between he and Roman over who deserved it more. But more than anything, for this scene here, for doing this. Hypocritical, perhaps, yes, because it was only a couple of years ago that Seth himself was using a steel chair in much the same way... but dammit, it's not the same thing, so he cracks Kevin another time or two with the chair until referees arrive, pull him away, get Owens out of the ring.

He breathes in deeply as he kneels down next to Dean and looks over at him, observing the uncertain look in his dark blue eyes. Realizing what the problem is and tossing the chair over the ropes carelessly, he nudges Dean's arm. "You alright?"

"What are you doing here?" he wonders incredulously.

"Returning to save your ass, apparently," Seth says, letting out a vague, grim laugh. "I was cleared to compete a few days ago but the Authority doesn't seem to give a damn anymore, so I took matters into my own hands... and here I am." The referee and WWE doctors come to examine Dean and Seth backs up to give them room, staying close enough that Dean can see him but far enough away that he's not bothering anyone.

Once the doctor is appeased, Dean rolls out to the apron and Seth waits patiently. "I'm not sure I like this role reversal," he grunts, getting to his feet and almost collapsing immediately, too exhausted to stand for too long.

Seth's quick thinking is the only thing that keeps him upright, and he smirks against Dean's wild hair as he helps him stand. "Well, it could be worse. At least your knee is still in one piece." He stays close, though he allows Dean to make his own way up the ramp once he's regained his balance, and they walk slowly together into the back where Roman is waiting, eyes dark with concern as he examines Dean.

"I'm fine. I'm fine," Dean insists, huffing and swatting when Roman ruffles his hair before turning to Seth, his expression strange.

Seth considers backing up, finding a way to defend himself just in case, but instead merely asks, "You can't even wait until I have my belt back to start in on me again, Roman?"

Roman rolls his eyes, flexes his shoulders, and then takes a couple steps forward before hugging Seth tightly, like he had the first time he'd seen him after his injury. "Glad you're back, little brother," he mumbles, squeezing Seth. Pulling away, he looks him up and down. "Knee good now?"

"Knee's great," Seth shrugs. "Once I get back what's mine, everything'll be perfect."

"Well, it'd definitely be an improvement over Owens," Roman concedes. Dean stumbles forward, looking between the two men, and they smirk at him. "We're good?"

"We're good," Seth confirms. "Until we have to fight over that title belt for real this time, anyway." He stares at them for a moment before putting his fist out almost questioningly. Neither man moves for a bit and Seth's about to move back, feeling awkward and a little stupid, when Dean presses his fist to Seth's, and a moment later, Roman follows.

For what feels like the first time since he'd felt his knee fall apart underneath him, Seth smiles.


End file.
